


Man Overboard

by ind1go_ink



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Noodle - Freeform, Other, Phase 2, Phase 2 Era, Russel, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frequent suicide attempts leaves 2D in a mental institution and the rest of the band are forced to move with him, abandoning their manor on the hill for a place far less savoury. Murdoc finds his stay the least pleasant, especially with having to keep an eye on the singer of his band on a constant basis, but something develops in that out-of-touch-with-reality place, something he can't quite quell inside of him when they finally leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Overboard

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP and my first fic in the Gorillaz fandom.  
> Woop!  
> This is just the first three parts, but it will be added onto later.  
> Mixed POV  
> Note on the Notes: Each 'part' is a slice of time. There will be 15 parts (possibly more).

The first time they found him, he was lying on the tiled bathroom floor, smiling blissfully while words spilled incoherently from his mouth. The water that gurgled down the drain was tinted with rust. He needed 11 stitches on one wrist and 14 on the other.

The second time they found him, he was clutching onto a wall in the basement, curled into a ball, tears staining his face. They forced him to throw up after discovering he'd downed 50 midol pills, then the Doctor had put him under anaesthetic in a moment of sympathy and pumped his stomach.

After the second incident they all decided he needed a keeper, someone who would watch his every move and look after the boy when he was low, someone who would alert them if he tried again. This boy was vital to the operation, he needed protection.

They chose Murdoc.

~~

It was a close quarter job, so Murdoc had been forced to move away from the glass walled, cement manor on the hill he called his home, much to his disgust. He hated it, particularly because he had no windows and the blank cement walls were claustrophobic enough without his meagre amount of clothing and personal items decorating the dresser and walls. He had to admit to himself that the standard issue mattress the institution had provided was slightly more comfortable than his normal bed, if only because he could fully stretch out rather than curl up with his lanky 5”7. But he still hated it.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the light that filtered in from the air vent was watery at best. It was late, judging by the snore from the opposite room, Russel always began snoring after midnight. The room on his right, by his head, was silent. 2D's room. Murdoc pushed himself out of bed, lanky legs swinging over the edge and he inhaled sharply as the soles of his feet touched the cold tile.

"Fuckin' hate the cold." He hissed, leaning over and dragging his slippers from the end of his bed. He slid his feet into them, pulling his dressing gown over his gangly frame, scowling at his door. He felt his face relax and he let out a sigh, bringing cold fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep away.

He padded out into the corridor, closing the door gently behind him, listening to his bandmates sleeping noises. The low rumble was the most distinguishable, belonging to Russ. The mumbled girlish giggles were Noodle's -- across the hall and two down.

He halted outside of the 2D’s door, chewing on his lip. What would merit a late night visit to the boy’s room? Saying he was supposed to monitor the boy at all hours was surely a bad thing to say. He’d probably blow a gasket, with how vulnerable his mental state was.

He shrugged to himself, and knocked on the door. Maybe he wouldn’t bother with asking for an excuse. Maybe the little shit wouldn’t be awake and he could slip back into his bed.

They were all in the same institution, staying there as ‘moral support’ for the kid during his ‘tough time’. Floor B2. It made Murdoc’s skin crawl, not that it wasn’t already crawling by itself. Being around all the nutjobs made his head hurt.

“Oi!” He banged on the door with a closed fist when he realised that the kid wasn’t answering. “Get out here, you white jacket wearing freak.”

He tried the door knob, eyes narrowing when the door opened, his tongue flicked at his lower lip. A nervous habit he’d never admit was one. He pushed the door open, a scowl making it’s way onto his face as he saw what was in front of him.

2D was curled up in the corner, large pale hands clutching his face, pained whimpers sounding through the room. Murdoc stalked inside, grabbing him by the hair and hauling him up. 2D's hands fell away, and tears were staining his near translucent skin, mingling with the bright red scratch marks, his face dotted with blood spots.

“What’s wrong with you, scared of the dark, you ninny?” He said, sneering. 2D pointed at the opposite wall, finger trembling. Murdoc’s gaze followed that finger, flinching back when he saw the scrawled message, messy and scraped against the wall in blood and skin, he looked back to 2D’s fingers, a bloody skinless mess.

_The demons are inside._

~~

They’d put him in a straightjacket, much to Murdoc’s amusement. But now, since he well and truly couldn’t be left alone, they’d moved him and Murdoc’s things into a big airy room, with giant 6 inch thick glass windows and no cords or electrical outlets. The singular light that lit the room came from a sunlight, towering 8 ft over them.

Murdoc gazed out of the window appreciatively, his jagged teeth showing in a one-sided smile. He turned, flinging his suitcase on one of the beds, the frame creaking alarmingly at the added weight.

“I like the new digs, thanks fer gettin’ it fer us, D.”

2D merely stared at him. He was curled up on the opposite bed, back pressed firmly to the wall and jacket jingling as he fidgeted, eyeing the bassist nervously.

“Are yeh gonna-- g-gonna beat me ’gain?”

Murdoc’s lopsided smile dropped as his eyes narrowed. “Why on Earth would I fucking beat you when you just scored us the penthouse of this fucking shitty loony bin?”

“Yeh… Yeh always beat me when I do anyfin’ wrong...” He avoided the eyes that were pinned on him, turning his head away, void-filled eyes fixating on a buckle of his jacket.

“Sure, you fucked your fingers up, ain’t no big deal mate, you’re only good fer your voice. As I said, you scored us. I ain’t gonna beat you fer that.”

2D seemed to consider his words, only seemed to. His brain was a melting pot of slowly processed thoughts and half assed ideas, his reaction time only a marginally faster than a sloth’s. Every time someone spoke to him, he looked as though he was pouring over every individual word, pulling apart the meaning and nuances before haphazardly sticking them back together. Conversations took twice as much time with him as they did with normal people. That didn’t mean he didn’t have strokes of cunning, though. Or, at least, streaks of idiocy and luck.

“Christ, get up!” He crossed over to the still figure, hauling him up by the jacket restraints. “It’s din-dins.” Murdoc spat, tugging him to the door. Being 2D’s minder was going to an _awful_ test of his non-existent patience.

~~

They met in the security guards room late into the night, not with permission of course, but the guard was easy enough to take out. Besides, that was the only room with screens that could access the outside world.

“So… You want us to… Watch him more, yes?” Noodle’s legs swung beneath her idly, chewing on a stick of bubble gum as she watched the screen. Murdoc was sprawled in an armchair, fingers pressed into his eyes from tiredness or possibly sheer indifference. Russel was standing guard by the door in case any of the attendees tried to make an entrance.  
“You mean to tell me this _ain’t_ enough?” He hissed through gritted teeth, removing an index finger from the bridge of his nose to glare at the flickering screen, grinding his teeth in frustration. “You mean to fucking tell me that moving into this garbage dump with all the barmy no brains with him, wasn’t _enough_?”

The figure on the screen nodded. “We need you to watch him more closely, particularly after this most recent incident that you have informed us of.”

“Yeah, I’m already in the same fucking room with ‘im!” Murdoc stood, pressing a greasy finger against the screen, leaning in and eyeing the figure, nostrils flared. “How much closer d’ya need to fucking get!” He was only stopped from smashing the screen itself when Russel held him back, picking up his scrawny body around the waist and holding him off the ground.

“Let go a’ me!” He seethed, turning to deliver a punch that the drummer ignored. Noodle hopped down from her perch, switching the speaker off mid-flow.

“We have to do what they say, Murdoc.” She said calmly, ignoring Murdoc’s outraged protests. “You’re the one they chose, not that I have _any_ idea why, you’re the worst one for him. But it’s on you to look after him.” Noodle stared up at him, unflinching in the face of Murdoc’s anger.

He gave up relatively quickly, body falling limp, his eyes narrowing. “Bugger off,” He mumbled sullenly. “I don’t know why they chose me either, I fucking hate the ponce. Can you please let me down now? I can’t feel my feet.”

Russel put him down, his hands gripping his shoulders lest he try to attack the screen again.

Staying within the institute’s boundaries simply because some anonymous person had paid to let them ignore protocol was one thing, damaging the institute’s property was another thing entirely.

“We just gotta do it, man.” He said, reluctantly letting go of Murdoc when he was sure he wouldn’t destroy anything. “We’ll help you, but since you got roomed with him, and yous two have known each other the longest… Well. Yanno. You gotta keep an eye on him.”

Murdoc glared sourly at the American. “I _have_ been keepin’ an eye on him! And now I’m stuck with the duffer day and night! It stinks of dodgy, if you ask me.”

“Murdoc,” Noodle stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping impatiently but her voice was soft, persuasive. “You have known him the longest, despite all of your abuse I think you know his habits and personality the best out of all of us. You are the only one who can get through to him.”

Murdoc scratched at his arm, awkwardly avoiding her gaze. “How?”

“Just stay with him, make him learn not to fear himself or the world. Find out why he wants to kill himself, make him stop wanting to kill himself. Be the _friend_ you are supposed to be.”

The word felt like a slap to the face for Murdoc, if only because he hadn’t heard it in years and he wouldn’t willingly admit that he had no friends. Not with his shit-hole personality.

He was already grateful deep down in the sick black pit of his heart that Noodle, Russel and 2D had stuck with him this long. Again, not another thing he’d ever admit as long as he was alive.

“Fine,” He said finally, running a greasy hand through his equally greasy hair with an exasperated sigh before reaching for the door knob. “Just don’t expect me to start playing tea party with him when he goes off his nut.” He said over his shoulder as he exited.

~~

Hushed voices, darkness seeping in at the edge of his vision, the outline of his room blurring into infinity.

_Don’t lie to yourself. You’re scared of me. You deserve it. You'll smile and pretend the way you do and won't show anyone. I'll go on without you. Move onto someone else. Destroy them too._

“No. Go ‘way.”

_You think you want the help, you think **Murdoc** will help you. You want to believe that, I can see the sparkling thread of hope in you. I could snuff it out so **easily**. But I want you to suffer. Suffer for me._

“I’m not doin’ anyfin’ for yeh.”

_No matter, I can **make** you suffer. I can pull the memories from your past, infect them, disease them, turn your mother into the whore she is, turn your father into someone as disgustingly filthy as Murdoc. Mm, I can **smell** the decay on him. He has own demons, Stu. But he hides them so well… You’re only a fragile pathetic shell. You can never hide me. I can make you forget you ever met Murdoc. I can make sure you’ll never sing again._

“NO!”

The tears started then, trailing scratches down his face, white-hot explosive pain burning his skin. He was helpless, arms tied to his back, holding him down. He felt his heart expand in his chest, bloody, glistening and raw, his lungs crushing against his ribs, his breath coming fast, too fast for his liking, but no air was getting to his brain. His nerves were on fire, the endings stripped of their protection, everything feeling as though it was too much, everything felt too sensitive, too tight, too violently intrusive. His whimpers only registered as vibrations in his throat as he thrashed in his bed. The darkness was bubbling now, threatening to boil over and take him again.

“Don’t let them take me!” He screeched, hands clawing at the fabric of his jacket.

Hands gripped his shoulders, holding him down, his head tossed from side to side frantically, trying to fight the darkness.

Then, a hint of light.

Through the thick fog of darkness, a sound from far away.

“D!”

The darkness seemed to pause it’s assault, letting him relax for a moment.

_D? Oh, what a cute little pet name. I’ll take it, rip it from your mind. Make you forget._

2D didn’t respond, his chest heaving. If he didn’t think about it, the monster couldn’t take it from him.

“Oh, fer fucks sake… Ah… Oh, bollocks. Alright, _shit_. Think Muds, _think_.” The sound of heavy footfalls radiating away from him, the echoes leaving imprints of an afterglow on his eyelids.

_What’s your name? Tell me. D? 2D. C’mon, you can tell me. I already know… **Just think of it!**_

He refused to acknowledge the demon’s existence, biting the inside of his cheek with his molars.

“2D! Come on, you pillock. Get _up_!” The footfalls returned, those hard solid hands grasping his shoulders, he kept himself still as he was lifted upright. The sound of clothes creasing, a loud rush in his ears. Everything _hurt_.

“...” A sigh. “Stu?”

His eyes snapped open involuntarily. Hearing his old name, after so long, was like an anodyne. The pain ceased as suddenly as it had begun, the demon fading with a terrible scream. Bright light filled his vision, filled with blues and greys, violets and greens. All clashing and pushing against one another, all filling into a singular shape, defining the outline of a body in front of him, bending down in his face. The colours were pulsing, each a different shade of demon, 2D knew. But it was still beautiful.

He blinked, as the colours began to fill in, solidifying into the form of Murdoc, hands grasping his shoulders, staring down at him, brow wrinkled with a look of… No. Couldn’t be… Concern? Hah. Nope. No way.

“What the hell got into you?!” Murdoc let go of him, reeling backwards, stumbling till his calves hit the edge of his bed and he sat heavily on his bunk, eyeing him like he was a monster.

He felt his shame rise like acid in his throat, a bitter taste coating his tongue. “W-What’d I do now, Muds?” He whispered, looking down at his bed. The sheets were a rumpled mess, flung half off the bed, his legs looking too skinny and bare against the off-white of the bare mattress.

“I don’t want to know,” Murdoc replied gruffly, stooping to pick his sheets up from the ground. “You gave me a right bloody scare, screamin’ like that in the middle of my sleep.” He said, staring at the sheets, a vaguely troubled look passing across his face before he stood again, handing 2D the sheets, staring out the window in a way that suggested that he wasn’t totally refusing to look at him, not when his eyes slid sideways. He shook the sheet at him.

“Well,” When 2D didn’t move -- just stared at him, brows furrowed, doing that little squint that he did sometimes -- he shoved them at him. “Take it!”

“A-Alright,” He gripped the sheets tightly, still unsure of how to take this. He watched with faint curiosity as his hands trembled against the cool cloth, only looking up when Murdoc cleared his throat.

“Look,” His mouth had turned into a sour flat line, he was obviously displeased with what he had to say. “If… If you. Fuckin’ hell.” He hissed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if you ever need someone to talk to, well, I have to stay with you, don’t I? I’m trapped with you at this point but all I’m saying is that… if… you… want to talk.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m…” Took a deep breath. “Free to listen.” It was a rushed jumbled mix of words said through gritted teeth, like it physically pained him to edge the words past his vocal chords.

2D felt his suspicion rise. “Why’re you bein’ so nice to me all of a sudden?”

Murdoc looked away, tongue flicking his lower lip. “You're in a fucking nuthouse, D. I _have_ to be nice to you.” It was a shitty excuse, one 2D saw right through, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Well, thanks…” He mumbled, pulling the sheet over himself, falling asleep as his head hit the pillow, leaving Murdoc to pace up and down, too agitated to sleep.

~~

He had to do something. Waking up every night to 2D’s screaming, pulling him out of it with his real name had become routine, one that was sorely testing Murdoc’s need for sleep. The exhaustion was dragging his mood down tenfold, and the only thing that was remotely comforting was the thought that he was actually helping keep 2D’s demons at bay.

And one night, after a particularly harrowing session, when 2D’s eyes flickered open after twenty minutes of Murdoc shaking him, yelling his real name, Murdoc swore he saw a glint of something in his dark eyes. Something that screamed evil to him. Even his husk of a body shuddered at the look in his eyes, only fading as 2D blinked rapidly, pressing his chin to his chest.

“‘M sorry, Muds.”

That was when he knew he needed to take action.

So, on another night when 2D was restlessly tossing and turning, whimpers building, Murdoc wasn’t with him for the first time in three weeks. He was deep in the bowels of the building, clambering over hissing steam pipes and cursing his through damp mouldy rooms, hauling a sack of items with him.

He found the centre of the building, marked with a scratch on the door that he’d placed earlier. His exploring hadn’t been for naught, he knew. He stepped inside, eyes drifting over the rotten frame of the door with distaste.

He set up quickly, efficiently, each step memorised from a time long ago when he’d hoped to dislodge his own demons, but they were too ingrained in him by that time and he’d paid the price.

He lit the candles, suitably dyed black for the occasion, scraped his cracked worn nails on a piece of burnt oak, gathering the flakes of the dead tree beneath his nails, he drew a binding circle on the floor, white chalk. Not an appropriate colour for what he was about to try, but it worked same as all the others. Or, at least, he hoped it would.

He dug the pin into his palm, letting the blood well up, pressing his palm to his temple, before hurriedly removing his shirt, pressing the same palm to his chest. Two blood spots, two people, two separate entities merging into one.

Then, he proceeded to speak the oath he’d learned himself, the one that would draw 2D’s demon out of his nest and into Murdoc’s body; “Oi! You snotty little wanker, get the fuck outta my mate’s body and c’mere! I’m _much_ tastier than ‘im!”

It worked, for some stupid reason that was lost on Murdoc entirely. Why the demon thought he was better feeding than 2D, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t think about it, gritting his teeth as bitterly cold air brushed his bare skin. He felt the presence before he saw it, the swirling cacophony of black, it looked like mist in the dim surroundings, the candle’s flames wavering as the demon paused.

“Well,” It was a challenge, and Murdoc grinned toothily. “Git in ‘ere big man.”

That was all it took, the mist flowing forward and clogging his nostrils, worming inside his airways, clouding his lungs so that for a terrifying moment, he was left gasping for air, uselessly flailing, his feet rooted to the spot in the middle of the circle.

There was no backing out now. It was almost done.

He banged as his chest, swallowing heavily before letting out a cough. “Christ,” He muttered, snuffing out each candle anti-clockwise before dusting the circle away. “You’re an aggressive bastard.”

He could almost taste the lingering remnants of 2D’s mind on his tongue, leaving him feeling more than ill. He tasted like ash, smelled like an old book, felt like a nail scratching down a chalkboard.

“This better be worth it,” He hissed, wiping the sweat out of his eyes as he shrugged his shirt back on, tucking everything into the sack and lugging it onto his shoulder.

He figured that since 2D only had the one, and was so messed up by it, he was a lot more fragile than Murdoc was, and since Murdoc already had his fair share of demons, how was one more pesky little anthropomorphic puddle of mental sickness going to hurt him?

~~

The best part of the day, surprisingly enough, was the time they all got to spend together in the gardens. Noodle had found the swing on a tall oak tree down the back, and would perch on it, swinging her legs the way she would while Russel would recline against the tree it was attached to, staring up into the sky. The enclosing mesh towered above them. Plated glass and reinforced steel framework, six foot hedges hiding where the building cut into the Earth. It let the sunlight in, at least.

2D would usually need to be coaxed outside, before he would scurry to the tree the others were at, climbing into the branches and sitting quietly. With the straightjacket he would be helped along by Murdoc, who help him sit on a nearby bench before pacing around, lighting a cigarette.

Now, without his demon, a few days later after an amazing increase in progress, they’d let him out of the jacket, and the first thing he’d done once his arms were free and they had the allotted garden time again, was to go and sit himself on the bench, rather than clamber up into the tree, eliciting a curious stare from Murdoc, who came up to him after a moment.

“Look, mate. Why ain’t you gettin’ up in the tree?”

2D stared up at him. “Dunno. Just feel more comfy here, yknow?”

Murdoc shrugged his reply, seating himself down away from the rest, lighting his cigarette before taking a breath full of smoke. The taste of ash filled his mouth again, reminding him of the previous weeks exorcism, how 2D’s mind had tasted on his tongue. He hurriedly stubbed his cigarette out in the grass, spitting a few times to be rid of the taste. He leaned back on his elbows, scowling up at the sky. A butterfly flew overhead, fluttering past him before circling out of his view. He sat up, watching as it flew to 2D, directly to him, fluttering in front of his face before landing, settling on 2D’s knee. Murdoc watched the butterfly distractedly for a few moments, eyebrows furrowing. It was a bland looking creature, all blacks and greys, a small tear in it’s left wing. Unusual for a butterfly. It was still, aside from opening it’s wings a few times, and after another moment, Murdoc’s eyes travelled up, curious to see 2D’s reaction.

He was staring at the butterfly, a slight grin on his face, hands resting in his lap. Murdoc could see he was being careful not to startle the bug, fingers fidgeting slowly, edging closer to the delicate insect.

His finger brushed along its wing, slow and gentle, and there was an all-encompassing breathless silence as the insect paused it’s wing flapping, seeming to determine if it was in danger before shrugging it off entirely, continuing to flap its wings. Murdoc’s eyebrow rose.

Just that small act of compassion, flipped his knowledge of 2D’s habits inside out. He wasn’t a rough guy in general, but he was a guy overall. He may have been stupid, slow to all extents in everything, but he wasn’t the gentle type, not with bugs, not with people either. He was the archetype of stupidity, like the useless dribbling cavemen of the streets, that abused their rights as a human to get incredibly drunk, to knock a bird up and leave heels on fire the next day.

This was new. Different. Murdoc wasn’t sure at all how he felt about it, if he even should feel anything about it.

He leaned back down, muttering something in a disgruntled tone before folding his arms behind his head, closing his eyes.

_You know, he’s a good kid. Stupid, sure. But he tries._

“Who in fucks name are you?”

 _I’m Stuart’s demon. Surprised you didn’t recognise the tassste._ It’s a hiss, before his mouth fills briefly with the taste of ash again.

“Oh? Fuck off, will you? I’m tryin’ to relax here.”

_C’mon. You’ve got to admit it. He’s growing on you. Hell, even I’m surprised. Oh, yeah. Can you stop your damn demons from siccing me all the bloody time?_

“I don’t tell ‘em what to do, sorry mate.”

_Hunh. Right. Anyway, back to your little conundrum._

“What?”

_You’re beginning to soften up to him, aren’t you? I can feel it, like butter melting in your veins. You’re beginning to feel bad about all those times for all those years that you beat him. He’s been so loyal to you, and you think you don’t deserve it._

“Shut it before I shut it for you.”

_Threats don’t work on an anthropomorphic puddle of mental sickness, friend. We don’t exist, except in your head. Admit it, you’re beginning to see little 2D as a **person**._

“Yeah, ‘cos he fuckin’ is! Christ, just bugger off you pesky shite.”

_Nah, I’m comfy here. You’ll feel better for admitting it to yourself, it’s not hard… All you have to think is that he’s a real person, ‘cos he is!’ and I’ll make myself scarce._

“What makes you think I’m listenin’ to something that’s only in my head, mate?”

_We’re already having this conversation, Murdoc Niccals. It’s so simple. Just think; 2D is a person, and I’m wrong to treat him so badly._

“Look, I know I’m wrong, do you think I don’t? I got a hell of a lot monsters chasing me. Mostly mine. I know I’ve treated him bad. But it’s been goin’ on so long I can’t just stop. He’ll _warm up to me_.”

_Is that really such a bad thing? You’ll have a friend at least. The only thing keeping Noodle and Russel here is the side money they’re getting paid. You owe everything to these three, for keeping **you** together. You like to think you did everything that made you all stars, but in truth, you were about as useful as a drunkard in a bar. Your ego needs a little pushdown, don’t think I won’t crush it. Admit it..._

“... Fine. 2D is a per--”

“Murdoc? We gotta go in now.”

2D’s above him, peering into his face, hand slapping his cheek.

“Git offa me!” He pushed at the younger man, a sneer tugging his face into sour old lines. “Just get away from me.” He spat, picking himself up and dusting his jacket off, glaring at him.

“I-I was just saying we’s gotta get in now…” 2D shrank back, looking like a puppy that’d been kicked, hands clutching at the sides of the oversized sweat pants the institute had provided him with, balling up the fabric.

That was when the guilt hit Murdoc full force, like a blow to the stomach. He turned, falling onto his knees as he threw up, chest heaving and body lurching. When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth with a shaky hand, eyes narrowing as he registered that 2D was grasping at him, hauling him up by the jacket, holding him upright and forcing him to stumble back to the building.

“Let go a’ me.” He hissed, trying to wrench himself out of 2D’s grip, but the guilt flooded his body again, making him shudder.

“We’re almost there, Muds. Don’t worry I gotcha!” He tottered through the double doors, pulling Murdoc after him, who looked like a pissed off cat, teeth grit and spitting curses at the other man each step they took to their room, hunching every time he did. It was starting to hurt now.

“What’ve you done to me?” He groaned, as 2D hurriedly pushed the door open. The lift was out and 7 flights of stairs hadn’t done much good for his smoke-infested lungs either, each step forcing a wheezy gasp from his broken body.

“I didn’t do nofin’ Muds!” 2D let him go as Murdoc dragged himself to his bed, a sweaty sheen turning his green-grey skin a mottled patchwork of moisture. He glared at him through half-closed eyes.

“Just, please, leave me alone for now.”

And the guilt didn’t hit. Didn’t make him feel like his body was betraying him. He turned his back to the door, pulling the blanket over his head to protect him from the thoughts he didn’t want to think.

 


End file.
